


Our Broken Pieces

by fruitytea



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 14:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3613893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruitytea/pseuds/fruitytea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Since I was young, I have always known this: Life damages us, every one. We can't escape the damage. But now, I am also learning this: We can be mended. We can mend each other." BELLARKE AU. alcoholic Clarke tries to deal with the recent suicide of her boyfriend, and maybe the boy who lives across from her can help..</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Broken Pieces

 

**Prologue**

Before these events took place, I would have told you there's no such thing as a soulmate or even true love. I'm still a bit skeptical about true love, but I do in fact one hundred percent believe in soulmates. I believe they exist, not always romantically, but rather quite platonically as the person you meet who you have an instant connection with. A connection that is not in any way typical. You are two people who just get each other in the simplest form. Someone who can even change your life. This may not be the person you'll spend the rest of your life with, it could be a friend, a sibling, a teacher, or the guy at Starbucks who actually spells your name on the cup right for once, but in my case, my soulmate was Bellamy Blake. He was an average boy who decided to leave a completely un-average mark on a hopelessly troubled girl..

~0~

I threw my hair up in a quick messy bun. It looked like complete crap, because it is impossible to do a messy bun quickly. Despite contrary beliefs, messy buns take at least ten minutes to perfect. So, mine turned into more of a blonde lump falling off the side of my head.

I decided I should get fresh air, and actually leave my apartment for the first time in two days and take out the trash. I walked down the slightly chilly hallway, lugging the large black trash bag. I dropped a few pudding cups on the way, but what the hell, I'd pick them up on the way back when I wasn't carrying a heavy bag of garbage that could rip at any second due to the fact I overfilled it.

I stepped into the small garbage room, flipped the light switch, and struggled to open the chute without locking myself in the room.

"Let me help you with that." Said a calming raspy voice behind me. I felt the weight of the bag lift when he took it from me and threw it down the chute.

I turned to see the man who helped me. I had expected some middle aged bald man, but it was actually a boy probably around my age of 19. He had dark brown hair and warm brown eyes you'd have to be blind to miss. A bit scruffy looking, but attractive all the same.

"Thanks." I said quietly and tried to leave the small room, but he was blocking my way. I looked down at his bag and noticed my pudding cups I had dropped. Good samaritan, I thought to myself.

He winked at me. "Cute outfit." I looked down at my gray sweatpants and gray volleyball tee. (I don't even play volleyball) But, who was he to judge, for he didn't look much better in a navy tee shirt and gray beanie. He was just an asshole, so I gave him the finger.

"Woah, woah, I was just messing with you." He put out his hand for me to shake. "I'm Bellamy by the way, Bellamy Blake."

I wasn't in the mood for conversations, I just wanted to go home and watch reruns of Grey's Anatomy. "Pleasure." I mumbled, but I avoided his outstretched hand.

"Wait a minute, I don't believe I caught your name?" He was smirking, as if having fun with this, and let me tell you, this conversation was not at all fun. "Fine.. It's Clarke Griffin."

He grinned and finally threw his trash away, pudding cups and all. "Well, It's been nice to meet you, Princess."

"Oh God, don't call me that unless you want to be slapped, " I said bitterly.

Finally, I found my chance to escape the tight garbage room. I had started to feel claustrophobic in there with the unfamiliar boy. "Okay.. I won't call you that.. What should I call you then?"

I wanted to say not to talk to me at all, but I didn't want to seem like too much of a bitch. Two bitchy moves in a row wasn't cool.

"Just Clarke."

As soon as I said it, I had already predicted what his reply would be, "Ok, then it's nice to meet you, Just Clarke." He laughed at his lame joke and I retreated to rolling my eyes at him.

He was now following me down the hall. When I got to my apartment, I motioned for him to leave. "Bye Bellamy." I said.

He ignored my goodbye and continued talking. Did this kid ever stop? "Hey! You live right across from me!"

I realized that I did know who Bellamy Blake was, and he didn't have the best reputation.. Not that I could talk though.. I was the depressed alcoholic hermit girl who only left her apartment to buy alcohol with a fake ID. "Ugh, you're not that kid that sells weed, right?"

"That would be me," I rolled my eyes, and he countered with, "Hey, it may not be glamorous, but you should see what some people offer me!"

I nodded. "Oh, right.." I gave him a look as if for him to leave. This time he finally did and I returned to my apartment to watch my Grey's Anatomy episode which was still paused.

~0~

A little over 5 minutes later, there was a knock on my door. "Shit," I grumbled and untangled myself from my blanket cocoon and got up to answer the door.

I saw Bellamy Blake outside with pudding cups. "I brought vanilla, chocolate, and butterscotch since I don't know your flavor preference yet."

(It was butterscotch)

"Bellamy.. you can't just invite yourself over," I said.

Bellamy just shrugged. "Well, it's not like you're busy, I mean you literally never leave," He wandered into the kitchen like it was his own home. "So, which one do you want?"

I was a bit unsure whether or not I wanted to take a pudding. I didn't want him to get the wrong idea, and think it was acceptable to come over whenever he pleased. "Butterscotch," I finally grumbled.

His brown eyes widened, "Really? I pegged you as more of a vanilla girl. Personally, I'm all for chocolate."

I was beginning to feel a bit agitated. I was in no mood to talk about pudding flavors. "Are you going to stay the fucking night or something?"

"Only if you want me to,Clarke." He winked.

"Whatever,"

I decided it would be a long night and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and poured myself a glass. Frankly, I couldn't care less what he thought of me. For his reputation wasn't very squeaky clean either.

"Whiskey?"

"Yeah.. We all have something we're addicted to that takes away the pain. A painkiller," I explained in the simplest way.

Some people turn to drugs, self harm, cigarettes, or sometimes more healthy things like cartoons maybe... I turned to alcohol. It was an escape. Everyone needs an escape. I learned that a year and a half ago, when things had first started to become rough.

He ate his pudding for a moment, giving us a minute of silence. "Maybe, you could be addicted to something a little more.. Healthy?" He suggested as if he had a say in the matter of what I did to relieve my pain.

I chuckled, "You hypocrite, you sell drugs out of your apartment. You hardly have the right to judge me for usage of illegal substances."

He spoke so quickly after me, and very defensively. "I wasn't judging you. Trust me," He looked me straight in the eyes, as if trying to reach me at the deepest parts of my soul. "I was just wondering, Clarke."

"It's the only thing that takes away the pain, trust me, I've tried it all." I was starting to feel the alcohol reaching my system, I felt warmer, lighter, and much, much better.

When I was younger, I could never have imagined myself at where I am today. All the awful things I've done. Sadly, those are the things that keep the demons away and help me stay sane.

"Yeah. I get it."

But he didn't. You can listen and nod all you want, but you'll never understand someone else's problems. You can't even try and put it into perspective because for the most part, people don't tell their deepest most terrible problems. But, sometimes it's best not to argue when people attempt to care.

"Thanks for the pudding.." I said, even though my cup lay untouched.

He got up. "I don't mean to be blunt, since we just formally met and all, but I want to fix you, Clarke Griffin. I want to be your painkiller."

"What?" I almost dropped the glass of whiskey.

I wasn't some broken down toy you could mend, you couldn't stitch up my wounds with a needle and thread. "No, you can't. Nothing can."

He threw me the rest of the puddings. "Well, I'm going to sure as hell going try."

**Thanks for reading! Reviews are love.. But really, i hate to sound like a thirsty bitch, but I am one so... Please review because I'm not 100 percent sure about my return to writing.**

 


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